roll it around in
your soft hand,
a small snail’s shell
wondering, Is it
fragile, or
maybe brittle?
this shell
used to be slimy,
like some monster
all alien and wet
all antennae and no limbs
no eyes, no soul
a whole colony,
faced with extinction
in the hot sun
maybe you eat it
maybe you taste butter
and herb, and savor it
or
maybe you taste
too much salt,
like hot, streaming tears
and dirty beach tides
but now you run
through the short grass
of your backyard
catching sunlight
like rain in a cup
until it spills all over
asking,
What can you smash?
